


Matter of Perspective

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP - Porn with Peerlo, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which three people insult Andrea’s beard and one doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matter of Perspective

“What’s up with the beard?” Gigi asks him the second they get back to training after their post-Euros break. His tone is incredulous and amused at the same time, and Andrea can practically see the insulting jibe forming on his lips.  
  
He replies with the truth: that he had just forgotten to shave a couple of days in a row and then decided not to bother, simple as that. He is not paid to look good – ensuring victories for the team is more than enough.  
  
“It’s fucking ugly, shave it off,” the goalkeeper deadpans, pursing his lips in an desperate attempt not to laugh. He fails miserably.  
  
“Missed you too, asshole,” Andrea mutters and rolls his eyes in exasperation. Sometimes he really hates his teammate.  
  
He decides to let his beard grow out even more just to spite Gigi, although he suspects that is exactly what the goalkeeper wanted all along.  
  
  
“Trying to fit in?” Claudio inquires after the afternoon training with a mischievous smile on his face. He has one eyebrow raised in interest and he is running a hand over his own impeccably styled facial hair that looks much too good for someone who has just spent last two hours running drills around the pitch.  
  
Andrea flips him the finger, not even trying to hide his annoyance anymore. He has explained the same thing  _fifteen_  times in less than a day, and frankly, he is sick and tired of it.  
  
He is surprised that people still keep asking him about it: with the speed rumours usually travel through the Juventus camp, his change of style should be old news by now.   
  
Then again, forgetting to shave is not exactly as gossip-worthy as, say, Gigi walking in on Andrea and Riccardo making out after the match in Florence last spring, so maybe he has no reason to wonder after all.   
  
(He will never live that one down, not with his teammates bringing it up in the most inopportune moments just because they  _can_. Riccardo really is lucky to have chosen Milan over Juve as his next destination.)  
  
“I could lend you a hand if you want to trim it a little,” Claudio yells after him in feigned innocence, and Andrea fights the urge to turn around and strangle him right then and there.  
  
He must have a patience of a saint, with teammates like his.  
  
  
Daniele tells him he looks  _absolutely stunning_  when they meet up over a cup of coffee in between the preseason preparations. His expression betrays no deceit, but Andrea knows not to trust it.  
  
In the course of their years-long friendship Andrea has come to learn that Daniele’s compliments rarely come without an ulterior motive – and this is doubly true when they are directed at Andrea.  
  
Last time Andrea had been faced with a harmless comment like this one ( _“That’s a nice hat, isn’t it?”_ ), he had ended up revamping half of his wardrobe under Daniele’s observing eye. He does not intend to fall for the same scheme twice.  
  
The only reason he manages to avoid the inevitable shaving is because threatens to return the favour if Daniele as much as touches his beard.   
  
(The bastard still manages to get some trimming done before escaping with his own precious facial hair unharmed.)  
  
  
Riccardo does not say a word when he pushes his way into Andrea’s house late at night, his travelling bag from the American tour still in tow. As soon as the door closes, he attacks Andrea’s lips with such fervour that the older man actually struggles to keep up.  
  
In no time Riccardo has him pinned down on the couch under his taller frame, both of their shirts gone already and desperate hands tugging hurriedly on Andrea’s belt buckle.  
  
Andrea has missed him so  _so_  much – what the hell is up with all the travelling anyways, first running off to Africa and then right after touring the fucking USA, all in less than a month? The obvious erection pressing against Andrea’s thigh reminds him that he has not been the only one affected by the separation.  
  
“The beard feels funny,” Riccardo mutters against his lips, nibbling them gently between every word. He lifts his fingers to trace Andrea’s jaw line curiously, getting used to the unfamiliar sensation.  
  
“Is that good or bad?” Andrea asks carefully, his voice nothing more than a breathy whisper. He is ready to get up and go shave at that very minute if Riccardo asks him to.  
  
“Neither, it’s just different,” Riccardo answers contemplatively and pulls back just far enough to have a proper look, “Makes you look older, though.”  
  
“I  _am_  old,” Andrea retorts in amusement as he wraps his arms around Riccardo’s waist and pulls him flush against his body again, demanding another kiss. As much as he enjoys not being ridiculed for once – Riccardo has the ability to make even comments about his age sound like genuine compliments – this is not the conversation he wants to have right now.  
  
Riccardo practically melts into his arms as they kiss again, adjusting their position slightly so their still clothed erections are pressed against each other.  
  
“Not too old, I should hope?” he whispers with an impish smirk when they finally break the kiss for some air. His hands are back on Andrea’s crotch, his belt coming off in one fast pull and then his fly is opened and Riccardo’s hand is cupping his cock insistently.  
  
It is all too much for Andrea, and in one swift move he has their positions flipped over. He goes down Riccardo’s lean body, marvelling the taste of the skin under his lips. He pulls the jeans only low enough to reveal the awaiting erection and wastes no time before he flicks out his tongue to taste it.  
  
It takes mere moments before Riccardo is trembling under him, his back arched and hips bucking up involuntarily – and then Andrea can feel the familiar taste of Riccardo’s come on his tongue.  
  
“It’s better than stubble,” Riccardo comments absentmindedly some moments later, after bringing Andrea to his release as well with only a few firm strokes on his straining cock, “Less scratchy.”  
  
Andrea cannot help but laugh, because it is just so  _Riccardo_  to base his opinion on something entirely else than the usual beauty values. A comfortable silence falls between them as they lay on the couch, still only halfway undressed.  
  
It is Riccardo who finally breaks the silence as he stretches against Andrea’s body, wrapping his long leg around Andrea’s thighs.  
  
“So, ready for a second round, old man?”


End file.
